Nothing about today
made me feel differently

I drank coffee
close to my window
to fog it

hoping to see
you cast out
those ***** little pigeons
from behind that woven
cage of hair you make

to take me out
behind anchorages of boat docks
and bleed into weather beaten wood
like thickly mixed blackish-brown acrylic
scraped on shade

Lately,
the sun seems to
burn you off too quickly

scatters you about
absorbing me into
brightly colored hats and sandals

like wispy clouds that never touch the sky
with warm eyes and handshakes
that ring doorbells to get me off the couch
and ask me to come outside with them

I think
I will wait here -

for your drippy face to fall into a dreary mist
and collect on my windows tomorrow

Nothing about today
made me feel differently

Frost on the Windshield

Poor Kirbyville is mostly closed this morning
The cinder-block bakery is empty
And the only fast-foodery’s not yet open
Its neon tubes still dark against the stars

But the stop ‘n’ rob is busy enough
The gas pumps serving as anchorages
For trucks and boats, some headed to the lake
After taking on coffee and gasoline

And sausage-biscuits greased and slammed, and wrapped
In yellow paper of such painful sadness

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                      Our Antikythera Mechanisms

Chariots of the odds and ends of life
Wooden boxes of bronze mechanisms
By which we navigate the memories
Of all the golden islands of our youth

The hidden anchorages of lost love
And barefoot beaches of youth’s innocence
Beneath bright sunlit hills of wild must grapes
That taste of our desires in dreaming hours

All lost, alas, fallen into the sea
The sea of remembrance, eternally